


You're Not Weak Just Because Your Heart Feels So Heavy

by zahrawrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartache, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Insecurity, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahrawrites/pseuds/zahrawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous: prompt: you're not weak because your heart feels so heavy - its a quote. could i have destiel-ish and can it be sad pls? i know i didn't follow the prompt structure exactly but i was hoping you could do it for me anyway? thank youuuu x</p><p>As usual, constructive criticism and comments are always welcome.</p><p>Enjoy x</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not Weak Just Because Your Heart Feels So Heavy

Castiel wakes when they stop at the cemetery in the middle of night, the sudden unusual jolt of the car waking him. The brothers speak in hushed voices under the impression that he is still asleep. His eyes are closed, and he’s lying across the length of the back bench, so it is understandable why they would think that.

“Fine. Stay in the car.” Dean says harshly, effectively ending the conversation by slamming the door after he leaves.

Sam sighs after his brother’s departure.  He decides it’s time to make his consciousness known. Sitting up gradually, he rolls the cricks out of his neck as Sam turns to look him over.

“How’d you sleep?”

He tries not to groan in response. “As well as can be expected in the back seat of a car manufactured in 1967.”

The younger Winchester huffs an amused laugh, then turns back to watch his brother. Castiel follows his gaze, the elder Winchester growing smaller in the distance before finally stopping, hands in his jacket pockets. Even from here, Castiel can see how his shoulders shift and slump, how his head bows, how he runs a hand down his face before stepping up tentatively, to two graves.

“Whose graves are they?”

“Mom and Dad’s.”

Castiel’s brows pinch slightly. “But your mother was…” he breaks off, watching Sam’s expression change at his implication. 

He clears his throat and half-shrugs. “Even though there was no body, we still made her a headstone, put it right next to dad.” He swallows audibly. “They would’ve wanted it.”

He nods his understanding. Sam’s still watching his brother.

“Can I…?” he doesn’t know why he asks. Sam gives him a strange look.

“I guess. Be careful, Dean might bite your head off though.” He tries to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.

Castiel nods regardless and steps out of the vehicle, closing its door with less force than Dean did. Standing in the cold, foggy night, he observes the older Winchester for a moment, before following in his footsteps.

Dean must not hear his approach because he keeps talking quietly.

“-and it was  _my_  fault y’know.  _Everything_  was. Everything  _is_. And sometimes, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing or if I can even  _start_  to make up for everything wrong I’ve done- did… that I’m doing.” He scuffs the grass with the toe of his boot.

“And I don’t even know where to start with Sam. I mean, the kid’s just…”

He shrugs.

“I was supposed to look after him.” He says, voice quiet and apologetic, eyes at the foot of the graves, shameful.

“And I fucked up.”

He huffs a small laugh.

“Sorry, mom. I know…  _language_.”

The smile drops as quickly as it appears.

Castiel clears his throat and Dean doesn’t glance back at him, just turns his head even further away to swipe inconspicuously at his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asks, voice rough with emotion.

Castiel steps forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean, hands in his pockets, too. Glancing over the man beside him, his gaze turns to the headstones in the ground in front of him.

“Hello, Mr and Mrs Winchester.”

“Cas- you don’t have to-”

“Your son is remarkable.”

The words die in Dean’s throat and his mouth parts in surprise.

“Please, don’t be mistaken. He has flaws.”

Dean shuts his mouth and rolls his eyes.

“Everyone I have ever seen, has flaws; some more grave than others. But please don’t think that his flaws detract from his compassion, or the kindness in his heart, or the brightness of his soul.”

“Cas, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Dean’s murmur is self-deprecating and full of doubt.

“I am fully aware of what I’m saying.” Blue eyes turn fiercely to meet green ones. The only light in the cemetery comes from a lone lamp at the end of the row of graves, the white light like a beacon in the sea of darkness, illuminated behind Dean’s head like a halo. His eyes glint in the night light, gold flecks encompassed by a field of beautiful green, surrounded by harsh vessels of red – indicative of the tears that previously occupied them. His breathing shallows, evidenced by the frequency with which the white wisps of air leave his mouth. There is a vehement denial on his tongue, Castiel can tell. The cold chill touches the angel’s skin though he pays it no mind; he is more intrigued by the man standing in front of him. Before he has a chance to speak, Castiel drags his attention away from Dean to face the headstones once more.

“You should know.” he starts again. Dean places a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to derail his train of thought.

“Cas, you don’t have to-”

“He is not weak just because his heart feels so heavy.”

The air leaves Dean’s lungs all at once. He tries to choke out a denial but fails to even formulate a coherent sentence. There’s a deep pain in the centre of his chest, reaching far into his soul, one that makes him want to claw at his skin to remove.

His hands slides from Cas’ shoulder to drop beside him as he turns to his parents, afraid of confirming Castiel’s words. He shouldn’t feel that way, has no right to feel that way. He’s the one that fucked up, the one who jump started the apocalypse. He’s the one that was…  _weak_.

The word sears itself to the insides of his eyelids when he squeezes them shut.

“I believe I’ve said this to you once before.”

Dean forces himself to look at the falling angel. He finds nothing but resolute belief and compassion in his eyes.

“It is not blame that falls on you, Dean.”

Dean scoffs bitterly. “No, its responsibility.”

Castiel sighs quietly.

“You can’t save everyone.”

“I can try.” He retorts stubbornly.

Castiel turns away from the graves, ready to head back, but he pauses to place a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, it is enough to save yourself.”

When he’s standing alone in the cold cemetery, he turns Cas’ words over in his head.

_…heart feels so heavy._

_…can’t save everyone._

The tears threaten to come back so he says a quick goodbye and walks back to the car.

_…it is enough to save yourself._

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, my Tumblr is [here](http://prettyboydean.tumblr.com)  
> Drop me a message, tell me what you thought - I'd really appreciate it :)


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